Deep Blue Sea
by Holly Marie Fowl
Summary: Because I got tired of Deryn dying.  This isn't really a super-serious fic. Done as a joke, really.


**Salvete.** So, I was getting really annoyed at how people keep killing Deryn...it's Alek's turn. This turned out a little darker than I planned. Enjoy. or hate. Your choice. I apologize for the crappy title.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything from Leviathan.

**Deep Blue Sea**

California was beautiful, especially the beach. There was a stretch where the boardwalk reached out into the sea. It was where Deryn, Alek, and Newkirk were all standing.

"It's beautiful out here," Alek said, cupping his hand over his eyes and peering up at the clouds. "Stunning."

"Aye," Deryn agreed. "But it doesn't beat flying."

"I never said that."

"I would," Newkirk butted in. He'd been feeling like the odd one out lately.

"You haven't even gone up in a Huxley since your accident."

"I went up plenty when you were off causing a revolution, Dylan."

"Aye, I doubt that."

"Just ask Mr. Rigby."

Alek was ignoring their banter, staring up at the sky.

"Are you two ready to head back yet, or are you going to stand there staring at the clouds all day?" Newkirk asked, backing up. "I'm getting cold."

Alek didn't seem to hear him. He was leaning out over the water, having caught sight of something in the sky.

Newkirk couldn't resist.

He shoved Alek in the water…in the freezing cold water on an October day.

Deryn stared at the place Alek had disappeared in shock.

"What'd you do that for? Alek? ALEK!"

The boy hadn't come back up.

"Brilliant," she said stripping off her jacket and handing it to Newkirk.

She plunged into the cold water, shuddering at its icy fingers. Forcing her eyes open in the stinging salt water, she searched for Alek's form. His scarf had caught on a rusty nail. She paddled down and unwrapped the scarf. It was too late though; he'd already run out of breath and passed out.

She dragged him through the water and threw him on the pier, struggling to get up herself. She was shuddering in the brisk air.

The pulse was barely there, but he definitely wasn't breathing. She tilted his head back gently. "Come on, Alek." Still no breath.

Mouth-to-mouth.

Pinching his nose, she bent down and pressed her lips to his clammy ones. It wasn't exactly how she'd imagined kissing him. For one, he was unconscious and not breathing. For another, it was all she could do not to run around screaming in panic.

Forcing down her feelings, she kept pushing air into his unwilling lungs. Once, twice, pause. Nothing.

Still a pulse…getting weaker.

Another two breaths. No response.

She cursed in English and German, although one word of Arabic was thrown in there. Where she learned it, she had no idea.

No pulse.

30 chest compressions and two breaths later, there was still nothing.

She could barely breathe herself, and her fingers were completely numb. She grew aware of a crowd of people hovering around the pier. She pushed down on his chest again.

"One…two…three…" Her hands were shaking. He couldn't die. He couldn't barking die, not after all this.

Two breaths.

"Dylan…" Newkirk whispered. How long had she been giving him CPR? "Dylan, he's gone."

"No. No." She went at it harder. "You…can't….barking…die…ALEK!" The last word came out as a scream and a sob. It was caught halfway between. Her shoulders were shaking, and more salt began to fill her eyes. The ocean had nothing to do with it. She breathed as deeply as she could and pressed her lips to the archduke's even colder lips. "You can't be gone," she whispered, checking his pulse again. "You can't." Her fingers touched his lips, which were blurring suddenly.

"I love you," she whispered, though nobody heard her. Not the people huddled around to watch the tragedy. Not the cold sea which had taken his life in the first place. Not the howling wind that was sending shivers down her spine. Not the haughty seagull perched precariously on the post.

"NO!" she screamed, slamming his chest with her fist.

Nothing happened.

They had to drag her away from Alek, in the end. She'd ended up collapsing into someone's arms—Barlow's, she suspected, though she never found out—until she could breathe properly. Barlow kept her in her own personal state room on the excuse of hypothermia. Deryn didn't care that the lady boffin knew her secret. She wouldn't have been able to bear being in the room she shared with Alek. Even when she could go about her duties without breaking down, and even when she regained use of her fingers, she still felt off. Oh, she could work. Physically, she was fine. She felt alright most of the time, but the nightmares…The nightmares were hell. All she could see was the bluish tint of the water, broken by random shafts of light, and Alek's body floating in the nothingness, his green eyes forever closed.

**End Notes:** Kill me. Or don't. Just let me know what you'd rather do. ;)

Love and Skittles,

Holly Marie Fowl


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